


this is our sound

by redheartglow



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Always-a-girl, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderswap, Multi, Windsor Spitfires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheartglow/pseuds/redheartglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five times girl!ryan ellis and girl!taylor hall didn't hook up (and one time they did)</p>
<p>(or, the one where ryan ellis and taylor hall spend years terrorizing the windsor spitfires, everyone else in the universe, and each other.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is our sound

**Author's Note:**

> like most things in my life, this is probably robyn's fault because she is a horrible enabler. also, [here](http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/This+Is+Our+Sound/75685605) is a soundtrack.

**One. (April 2007)**

No team has ever selected girls in the first and second rounds of the priority draft, but hey: the Spitfires have been bad enough during the past few seasons that they'll do anything to rebuild and ice the most talent they possibly can. So Ryan's pretty excited when she gets selected by them in the second round, and she’s only a little surprised that they had picked a girl, a centre, in the first round as well.

Ryan recognizes the other girl from the OHL Cup, this skinny, smirky, _cocky_ girl; Ryan remembers that all bets were off when they faced off against her team. She remembers this girl dekeing around her to score; remembers her own teammates all getting out of position trying to take out this one runt; remembers the self-satisfied smile the girl was wearing when her teammates mobbed her after her second, third, _sixth_ goals.

Ryan’s heard stories, about how this girl, _Taylor_ probably thinks she’s hot shit; how she had walked into her meeting with their new coach and announced that she was going to lead the league in rookie scoring, before even getting drafted.

She eyes Taylor from across the room, where she's talking to Jesse Blacker and Ben Dubois - Taylor's got limp, dishwater-blonde hair, gangly limbs and full lips; she might be okay at hockey, but she's not exactly pretty and she probably won’t even be fun to hang out with. Whatever - Ryan steels herself for a season of becoming frenemies out of necessity to promote team chemistry and nothing else. She staunchly does not let her gaze linger on Taylor's mouth and wonder what kind of lip gloss she uses.

Ryan kind of hates her a little bit.

Together, they end up spending the season tearing up the league, a tentative friendship developing into a sense of camaraderie that's rooted in mutual respect, to the point where it's not even surprising that Taylor's the one to fold her arms around Ryan when things get awful; that they create rituals and have inside jokes and trust each other with secrets they don't share with the boys.

At the end of the season, they make the playoffs and Taylor, now a reckless winger instead of a wild centre, does indeed end up being the rookie in the league with the most points. The boys all say that the two of them should make out in celebration, so in the name of team spirit, they do; that and the fact that Josh Bailey promises that he'll kiss Andrew Engelage too. Ryan learns that Taylor's a messy kisser, aggressive and sloppy, but also that her lip gloss tastes like waxy vanilla.

"You kiss like a dude," Ryan tells her, shoving Taylor away with one hand and wiping her mouth with the back of her other, over the wolf-whistling boys and Harry Young’s glare of disapproval: whatever, whatever - Ryan knows that deep down, he loves them both. "Or like, I dunno. A horse. And not even a lady horse: a _dude_ horse."

(Later, Ryan pulls Taylor out around the back of The Barn and, after making sure no one's watching, gives her instructions: tilt your head; don't open your mouth so wide; don't over think it. It's a little awkward, but Taylor's a fast learner, and when she finally pulls away, Ryan can feel herself blushing all the way down her neck.

"Okay?" Taylor says, her cheeks as pink as Ryan's feel.

"Better," Ryan generously allows, and smiles. "Wanna do it one more time, just to be sure?")

 

**Two. (May 2009)**

On their first day in Rimouski, Ryan's yawning at the breakfast table when Taylor and Dale Mitchell show up and sit down across from her, Mitchell grinning widely under his moustache as Taylor glares at him.

"What?" Ryan says, looking curiously between them.

"Some really hilarious shit's going down," Mitchell says while shoving a huge forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"What shit?" Ryan wants to know, putting down her spoon and leaning forward eagerly.

"It's not funny," Taylor protests. "It's scary! And don't talk about it: I'm hungry and it’ll make me lose my appetite."

Mitchell smirks: "Speaking of hungry, do you know who's hungry? Patrice Cormier. He's so hungry. Hungry for Hallsy's love."

"Wait, what?" Ryan can't believe her ears, and tries not to laugh.

"Cormier's into her," Mitchell clarifies, making no attempts to try and disguise his laughter. "She made me pretend to be her boyfriend: it was the worst. I don't think he bought it."

"It's only the worst 'cuz he wants to make me his, like, Quebec shack wife or something...stop laughing! It's not funny!" Taylor glowers as both Ryan and Mitchell find themselves in full-out hysterics. "This is serious! He told me he was going to _court me_ \- I don’t even know what that fucking _means_. Is that some sort of French thing?"

"Oh come on: it's not like you're picky about who you sleep with," Ryan just barely manages.

"Yeah, but I don't want to sleep with _him_ ," Taylor grouses, stabbing her butter knife into her toast.

"Well, maybe we can use it to our advantage and that will make Rimouski easier to play," Mitchell points out, quite reasonably, Ryan thinks. "How about it, Hallsy: take one for the team? I’ll give you a moustache ride of gratitude."

“I hate you,” Taylor tells him, pointing her knife at him. She turns to glare at Ryan. “You too.”

“You can’t hate me,” Mitchell tells her patiently. “I’m your fake boyfriend!”

“You’re the reason I’ve decided I’m never going to _have_ a boyfriend,” Taylor says, digging viciously into her food. Ryan just laughs harder and reaches across the table with her crumpled napkin to swipe away at some of the egg caught in Mitchell’s moustache.

They're still chirping Taylor about Cormier’s strangely terrifying affections after breakfast as they walk through the lobby, passing by a congregated group of some of the Kelowna Rockets - Ryan recognizes a few of them from playing with them at WJC this year. The intention is to hurry by quickly, unseen, but Ryan, Taylor and Mitchell all freeze when they overhear them talking smack about the other teams in the tournament, about how inexperienced the Spitfires are, a team comprised of a bunch of third liners and second-rate D protecting their overrated girl winger and the fatass chick on the backend.

The thing is that Ryan's been told by opponents that she's fat for a good deal of her life, and maybe when she was thirteen she gave a shit about it and got upset. But it's kind of hard to care when she's good enough at hockey to be a seventeen year old girl playing with dudes, shutting down the best forwards, wearing a WJC gold medal and playing for the Memorial Cup. So Ryan could sincerely care less about what every-fucking-one else thinks about what she looks like: she's not fat; she's _awesome_.

She knows that Tyler Myers and Jamie Benn, guys who she’s become friendly with, probably don’t subscribe to this. But she also knows that team dynamics run thicker than blood, and that they’re definitely not going to be standing up for her, not now - it’s just kind of the facts, so she doesn’t let herself feel too hurt by it. So she pretty much gives no fucks even though she knows that her teammates have overheard the Rockets too: Taylor goes suspiciously quiet, but does reach over to grab Ryan’s arm, and the two of them practically have to physically hold Mitchell back from marching over and giving them a piece of his mind.

"You don't have enough brain to spare, Mitchell," Ryan tells him softly, cheerfully, and sends him on a run to cool off.

-

"Maybe they meant 'phat' with a p?" Taylor muses out loud, later, as they're hanging around outside the hotel, waiting for Mitchell to come back.

"They probably didn't," Ryan says. "Whatever. I know I'm _great_. We'll beat them on the ice."

Taylor watches her speculatively: "I don't think you're fat," she tells Ryan. "I...you have a great rack."

Ryan raises an eyebrow at her. "...thanks?"

"Yeah," Taylor says. She ducks a little, and then quick as anything, presses a kiss to Ryan's cheek. Then she nods once, smiling sheepishly before wandering off, leaving Ryan to stare dumbfounded at her retreating back.

-

After the tournament, the elated screaming, and the celebrating, both Ryan and Taylor get named to the tournament’s All-Star Team and get asked to pose for a photo-op with the other kids being honoured. As luck would have it, they somehow end up sandwiched between Cormier on one side, and Benn _and_ Myers on the other.

Taylor darts a quick look to her left, and then to her right, and, out of view of the camera, grabs for Ryan’s hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ryan says, pulling her hand away, camera-ready smile frozen on her face.

"Come on, Elly, Cormier's right _there_ ," Taylor hisses at her. "Do you want me to die?"

Ryan thinks about this: "Sometimes."

"Elly," she half whispers and half whines, and Taylor makes those cow eyes that make her look ridiculous but always get Taylor her own way (though, every time Ryan complains about that, Scott Timmins is quick to point out that Ryan's the only human on earth who can get away with calling Harry Young 'Captain No Fun' to his face, so that's got to count for something - Ryan supposes that Scotty's right, but that doesn't really help her right now).

Ryan sighs but grabs Taylor's hand, holding on with much more force than necessary, "Happy?"

"Yeah," Taylor says, smiling the same smug smile she always does when her teammates inevitably give in to her. But she squeezes Ryan's hand tightest when Benn and Myers pull in close for the photo, and Ryan feels herself brushing a finger over the soft skin of Taylor's wrist in thanks.

 

**Three. (December 2009)**

Ryan can't exactly be sure how it happens, but she tells herself that she's only doing this to build team chemistry, and not because she finds her defence partner really cute and likes the fact that he's pretty into her, too. Regardless of the reason, she hooks up with Travis Hamonic after the last exhibition game at the World Juniors and it's kind of really awesome.

She's practically strutting her way back to the room that she's sharing with Taylor; it's not time for curfew yet so she'd bet good money that Adam Henrique and Greg Nemisz are likely in the room with her, all of them shouting at whatever hockey game's probably on TV tonight.

She's not wrong - when she pushes the door open, all three of them are piled on to Taylor's bed like a litter of demented puppies, looking up expectantly when Ryan walks in.

Ryan decides that there's no use for beating around the bush: "Guess who just got hammered by the Hammer?"

Henny groans, Taylor claps her hands in delight and Nemo leans over to high five Ryan before pulling her on to the bed as well - the bed creaks under their collective weight but holds.

"Now I have to get laid too," Nemo says thoughtfully. "Think I can find a Saskatchewan bunny who'd go for it?"

"Anything's possible, Nemo," Ryan tells him and then ducks when he swats at her. "And if not, maybe Hallsy'll bone you if you ask nicely."

Taylor just flips Ryan off: "I'm easy, not desperate," she deadpans, trying to hold in her laughter. “No offense, Nemo.”

"Speaking of desperate, gonna throw Captain Canada a bone this time around, Hallsy?" Henny turns to smirk at Taylor who goes from looking smug to horrified in a matter of seconds. “Cormier just wants to love you: why won’t you let him love you?”

"Nah," Ryan says, dogpiling on to the teasing. "She's saving herself for Jordan Eb-er-leeeee.”

"Oooh," Nemo says, seemingly recovered from his crushed ego, and pulls Taylor against him. "Jordan Eberle _is_ pretty dreamy! Too bad he probably won't go for a…what did you call yourself at Shuey’s goodbye party? A ‘slutty whore’?”

Taylor just laughs, burying her face against Nemo's arm: "Shut up: I told you, I don't even remember saying that!"

"You heard her, kids," Henny notes, mock-gravely. “You can’t call her that if she doesn’t remember calling herself that: them’s the rules.”

“Even if we were just chirping?” Nemo asks, resting his chin against the top of Taylor’s head.

"Even if it were true?" Ryan notes, nudging Taylor with her foot.

"Hallsy?" Henny says, in a terrible imitation of a fake-announcer voice. "Are we allowed to call you a slutty whore because you’re our bro forever?”

"I was so drunk that night guys," Taylor says, her voice muffled against Nemo's shirt. "Can we go back to chirping Elly about getting hammered? I liked that part better."

Henny sighs. “You and Elly should make out instead,” he says. “I think that would make my shoulder feel better.”

Taylor looks up at that, and extracts herself from Nemo to crawl over to Henny and offer a sympathy hug: “As much as I like Hammer and no disrespect to Elly, but I don’t want his sloppy seconds. Does your shoulder still hurt?”

Henny pulls her in with his good arm. “It’ll be okay. I just wanted sympathy and to watch girls make out. It seemed like a good time to bring it up. How’s your knee?”

“It’s fine,” Taylor says dismissively, but burrowing further into Henny’s side regardless. “Elly: ankle?”

“Still bruised but good to go,” Ryan says, reaching down to roll down her sock and prod at her foot. “We’re such a sad bunch.” She pauses, before sitting up straighter. “Hey, Nemo: how’s your face?”

Nemo furrows an eyebrow. “What? Nothing’s wrong with my face.”

“I beg to differ,” Ryan tells him solemnly and then quick as anything, dives behind their laughing teammates for cover, using them as a shield as Nemo makes a sound of great outrage and lunges for her.

 

**Four. (May 2010)**

It's not that Ryan isn't taking the tournament seriously, but since they're doing this for a second time, she's feeling significantly less anxious, one year older and maybe even wiser. She tries to think about the next couple weeks in tunnel vision, no distractions, only hockey, but this mission becomes slightly more challenging with the realization that Travis Hamonic plays for the Wheat Kings, who they'll face in game one, but still. Taylor just laughs and teases Ryan about remembering where her allegiances lie -

“You can’t sleep with him at the Memorial Cup,” Taylor announces on the plane to Brandon over a snoring Justin Shugg, asleep in the seat in between them.

“Fuck you,” Ryan grumbles. “No one’s sleeping with anyone: we’re playing hockey. I know this is going to be hard for you, but try not to be stupid.”

“It’s like sleeping with the enemy,” Taylor continues, undeterred, because she's never really understood the art of subtlety. “Except _actually_. Like if you slept with Fowler during the World Juniors.”

Shuggy chooses that moment to stir awake: “Who slept with Fowler at World Juniors?” he asks sleepily, concerned.

“Shh,” Taylor tells him, and pulls his head down on to her shoulder. Shuggy complies readily and is asleep again almost immediately, despite the bursts of laughter from both Ryan and Taylor.

Neither of them is laughing, though, when Hamonic collides with Taylor and she ends up going face first into the boards within the opening minute of the game: even Hammer looks a bit pale as he skates away, looking over his shoulder with concern.

The entire Spits team lets out a collective sigh of relief when Taylor finally gets up and wobbles back to the bench, trying not to drip blood on her jersey. The intensity ramps up after that: Ryan's on the ice when Kenny Ryan scores the first goal just moments later and hurtles himself into her waiting arms; then Scotty scores, and Henny, too. By the time Taylor gets her ass back on the ice, straight-up undressing the D on a super-pretty revenge play, they're well on their way to routing the shit out of the Wheaties. With the exception of a vaguely sloppy third period, everything's pretty much back to normal, and any thoughts Ryan may or may not have had about banging Hamonic are millions of kilometers away.

The atmosphere on the team bus after the first round robin game is exuberant: Coach is trying to get them to all calm down, to not get too ahead of themselves, but they can tell that even that is half-hearted at best. The routing on Brandon’s home ice means that they get to be excited, at least until they get back to the hotel and have the Calgary Hitmen to think about. Even Captain No Fun's chatting fairly animatedly with Eric Wellwood about the game, too content to glare disapprovingly at Elly as she drapes herself all over Mark Cundari and rehashes the game with Philipp Grubauer and Adam Wallace in great detail.

It's not until Wally's laughing about Hallsy's ridiculous goal and how lucky she is that it went in so that Coach didn't flay her for it that Ryan realizes she's missing from the cacophony. It takes her a moment, craning her head from her elevated view from her perch in Cundari's lap, before she finds Taylor tucked against Cam Fowler, who's leaning down to talk to her while rubbing slow circles against her back.

There's a funny feeling in the pit of Ryan's stomach. When Fowler finally looks up, Ryan catches his eye: _She okay?_ she mouths. Fowler half smiles and then nods.

Ryan turns back to chatting animatedly with her teammates, jokingly hitting on Grubi for being so clutch, but the weird feeling doesn't go away.

-

Taylor's still quiet when they make it back to the hotel room that they're sharing; doesn't talk much as they're getting ready for bed until she ducks into the bathroom to talk to her mom when she calls, speaking in an uncharacteristically soft murmur that Ryan can barely hear. Ryan sits cross-legged on the bed and waits patiently.

When Taylor finally emerges from the bathroom, she sees Ryan watching her and offers a tight smile: "My mom says she's not going to watch the rest of the tourney," she says lightly. "She just kept crying even though I told her I was okay, like a million times."

She stretches, wincing a little when something in her back pops loudly while Ryan watches her, takes in the way her t-shirt rides up just enough to flash a bit of stomach.

"What?" Taylor says, like she's suddenly self-conscious. "Don't you be getting weird on me too."

"Are you and Cam a thing?" Ryan blurts out. "Because I think he has a girlfriend."

"Oh my god, Elly," Taylor says, rolling her eyes. "I'm not a homewrecker. He was just being a good friend."

Ryan blinks, feeling like she's suddenly lost track of their conversation. "How?"

Taylor just shrugs, carelessly tossing her phone on the table between their beds and pulls down the sheets to the other bed, settling gingerly under the blankets.

Another long moment passes between them before Ryan slides off her bed and crawls in with Taylor instead; gathers up her courage to lean forward and brush her lips against the stitches on her forehead, the stitches under her nose. "Wow, Hallsy," Ryan breathes against her cheek when Taylor doesn't pull away. "Congratulations: you're officially a paper bag princess."

"Shut up," Taylor grumbles without any actual malice, relaxing against Ryan. "Don't make fun of me."

Ryan takes this as her cue to act on instinct - gently pulls Taylor in closer to her, pretends not to notice when Taylor exhales shakily. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Taylor says, her voice muffled by the way it's pressed against Ryan's neck. And then, after a moment, "Stay?"

"Okay," Ryan agrees, because tonight, this is where she wants to be.

 

**Five. (June 2010)**

After the second Memorial Cup win, the entire team pools their money together for a second celebratory trip to Cancun. There’s a buzz in the air since all of them kind of know that most of them won’t be back next season. They celebrate winning the cup and the successful season. So the team spends their time together on the beach and escaping from reality, drinking and hanging out and generally being as ridiculous as they possibly can for the entirety of the next five days.

Ryan has no delusions: she knows that the team loves both Taylor and herself, but they’re all like bros. Moreover, she knows that away from hockey, they’re not conventionally attractive like the hot girls hanging out on the touristy beaches in Mexico. She resigns herself to maybe not hooking up at all during the vacation.

“Whatever,” Taylor tells her, as they lie on the beach side-by-side. “It’s not like a dry island or anything: I definitely got laid last night.” 

"Wait," Ryan sits up, prodding her in the shoulder. "You bitch! Why didn't you tell me? You hooked up last night? When? With who?"

Taylor pushes her sunglasses up on to the top of her head to peer at Ryan: "While you guys were doing that midnight swim! It wasn't that great: we were both really drunk - he came super fast, so I faked it and then I left." She sighs: “It's too bad: he was pretty hot - didn't catch his name though."

Ryan stares incredulously at her before she starts laughing: “You’re the _worst_.”

Grinning, Taylor makes a show of sweeping her gaze slowly up and down Ryan’s body: “If you're not getting any, it's their loss, you know. I’d totally go for you.”

This kind of takes Ryan by surprise and startles another laugh out of her - she shoves at Taylor, because hey, _jokes_ , but after a moment’s jostling, when they settle back comfortably against each other, Ryan kind of hates that maybe a sense of curiosity is piqued somewhere inside her, and doesn’t seem to want to go away soon.

 

**PLUS ONE (April 2012)**

“Let me get this straight,” Ryan says, bouncing once on Taylor's bed, careful not to spill the beer in her hand. “You called me and dragged me up to Edmonton on my two days off before my first NHL playoffs so you could proposition me into a threesome.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Taylor beams at her.

“And at no point, did it occur to you, that this is an incredibly stupid idea?”

“It’s not a stupid idea. It’s the opposite of that.”

“You made it sound like it was a matter of life and death, you non!” Ryan squawks.

“Are you saying you don’t want have a threesome with me and Ebs?” Taylor asks, matter-of-factly.

Ryan exhales loudly, laments the fact that Taylor stoned on pain medication might actually be even more ridiculous to deal with than Taylor on any other given day, and then curses the realization that Taylor's not exactly wrong. “You have no idea how much I hate you right now,” she finally settles on as a response. “Does Ebs know that this is happening?”

“Leave that part to me,” Taylor says dismissively.

"This is unbelievably dumb," Ryan repeats, shaking her head. "Sleeping with teammates is just stupid."

"You’re the worst liar,” Taylor's grin takes on a sly edge. "What about that time with Captain No Fun?"

"I told you about that in a fit of drunken confidence!" Ryan protests, making a face. "You're still gross."

"Oh, and what about the time you got hammered by Hammer?" Taylor demands.

"Shut up: what about the time _you_ got hammered by Hammer?" Ryan shoots back, and then instantly feels bad about it.

Taylor just shrugs though, and grins like the Cheshire Cat: "'least I had clothes on for that."

"...I don't even know how to respond,” Ryan says. "Anyway, I can sleep with whoever the fuck I want, thanks."

"Right, exactly," Taylor replies, so hopefully that it almost takes Ryan by surprise.

Luckily she's saved from having to say anything more when she hears the lock to the front door jiggle, and Taylor's dilated pupils light up even more: "Ebby's home!" she announces, grabbing the empty bottle from Ryan’s hand. "Just um. Stay here for like. A minute: I'll be back!"

And then she's gone, leaving Ryan alone in her room and wondering, not for the first time, _what the fuck_.

"Ebby, hi!" Ryan hears Taylor say brightly when the door opens and shuts.

There's a long pause, and then Ryan hears a wary "...what's up?"

"It's my birthday--"

"--it's not your birthday--" Eberle interrupts.

"--it's my _half_ birthday," Ryan hears Taylor continue, undaunted. "Your gift to me is waiting in my room. It's a threesome."

"You've got to be kidding me," Eberle says.

"Come _on_ ," Taylor whines, and Ryan has to stare down at her socks in an attempt not to laugh and give herself away. "Remember that time you wanted to have that threesome with the girl in Calgary and I went with it? So now we can be, like, even."

Ryan's eyes widen, feeling like she's learning way too much about their sex lives and almost misses Eberle's protest: "That was different!"

"How?"

"We weren't dating then," Eberle wheedles feebly.

"It's just Ryan," Taylor says in what Ryan can only assume to be an attempt to placate. "You _like_ Ryan!"

There's another long pause before Eberle speaks again: "Uh, Hallsy, you know, nothing against your fantasies, but you know that I'm just not into dudes..."

"No," Taylor interrupts. "I mean Ryan _Ellis_. She's not a dude. And she's already in my room."

When Eberle speaks again, Ryan can almost hear the attempt at holding back his laughter: "My gift to you on your not birthday--"

"--half birthday--" Taylor corrects.

"--is a threesome with Ryan Ellis, who's currently in your room?! Hallsy, how stoned are you?" Ryan's got to hand it to him: Eberle sounds remarkably calm right now.

"That's not the point!" Ryan can hear Taylor protest as she pushes the bedroom door open, and like she had imagined, Taylor's most definitely got the same look on her face that got her running buddies at six thirty in the morning and into Windsor bars at age seventeen and resulted in Ryan hopping a flight to Edmonton after a three minute FaceTime call.

"Hey Elly," Eberle says sheepishly when he sees her perched on the bed. "What's up?"

Ryan laughs, sitting back comfortably: "I had nothing to do with her plan, by the way - this is all her."

"She's terrible, isn't she?" Jordan says, affectionately winding an arm around Taylor's waist.

Taylor makes an indignant whining sound, petulant as ever: "You guys should be nicer to me - it's my half-birthday and I just had surgery, come on!"

Eberle wavers a little at that, which makes Ryan roll her eyes at how well-trained Taylor's accidentally got him, since subtlety is still something that seems to elude her on a regular basis: "Hallsy, shut up - everyone knows and no one cares," Ryan tells her.

"Cam probably cares," Taylor points out, but Ryan can tell by the way her mouth is quirking into a smile that she knows that Ryan doesn't really mean it.

"Yes, well, Cam won't have a threesome with you so seriously, _shut up_ ," Ryan says, before turning to Eberle: "Are we going to do this or what? And will it not be weird afterwards?"

There's a long pause as Eberle seems to think this over - "I think this would be okay," he finally says. And then he turns to Taylor, who's fidgeting in her attempt to stay quiet, and with a gentleness that surprises Ryan, Eberle asks Taylor if she's sure that this is what she wants.

"Yes," she says, so decisively, so seriously, with the same single-minded determination she's always had, that Ryan can't help but reach over and pull her in for a kiss for the first time in years - soft and slow and impossibly sweet.

Eberle clears his throat, his cheeks turning pink: "Wow," he finally says. "You know, no offense, Elly: I don't know if I thought you two together were going to be hot at all? But, uh. Hmm."

Ryan snorts, gently nudging Taylor out of her personal space and making the executive decision to pull off her own shirt first: "It better be - I taught her everything she knows about kissing."

Eberle's own shirt follows; getting Taylor's shirt off becomes a group effort but they manage it without too much trouble. They end up on the bed together soon after that - Ryan's never been in a threesome before, but sandwiched between two people with Taylor's mouth on hers while Eberle's watching them appreciatively, an arm hooked affectionately around both of them makes her feel like maybe she’s really been missing out.

Ryan almost whimpers when Taylor breaks the kiss to crane her neck and look at Eberle: "Ebby, I can't move my other arm," Taylor says sweetly, patiently. "Wanna give Elly a hand there? I want to touch her boobs, but that'd mean moving my hand off your dick. So."

Jordan laughs, a soft, low sound and looks over at Ryan and asks her if that would be okay.

"Yes, most definitely," Ryan tells him. 

And Eberle complies with rapt enthusiasm, and Taylor beams before going back to lazily making out with Ryan again, and Ryan realizes that she is definitely more than okay with this.

-

Later, afterwards, sleepy and warm and still curled up together, three in the bed, Ryan's pretty sure that Eberle's already passed out when Taylor turns to her with the same tentative smile from when they were sixteen and realizing that they'd unknowingly become friends. Something suddenly occurs to Ryan: "I thought you didn't do boyfriends," Ryan says, gently pulling Taylor in and stroking her hair.

"I don't," Taylor slurs into Ryan's neck, shuffling closer.

"So who's Eberle to you?" Ryan grins.

There's a long pause. And then: "...my boyfriend," Taylor admits ruefully.

Ryan does her best not to laugh too loudly: "You really are gross."

"But he's super good at hockey!" Taylor protests half-heartedly. " _And_ he's really good in bed!" And then, after a long pause: "...and he does my laundry."

There's a shifting from the other side of the bed. "I can hear you, you know," Eberle mumbles, but he doesn't sound too put out.

Taylor makes a non-committal sound, like this is all old hat: "Should I say you're good in bed again?"

This time, Ryan doesn't make any attempt to hide her amusement: "She's a changed woman, Ebs. You've made an honest lady out of her. I don't know how you managed it, dude. Props."

"Shameless," Eberle huffs out a sleepy laugh, shifting so that he’s pressing up against his girlfriend and facing Ryan. "Both of you. Totally shameless."

"You mean _awesome_ ," Ryan corrects, settling in as Eberle tugs the sheets up to cover all three of them. Ryan feels Taylor’s sleepy smile of agreement pressed against her bare shoulder as she gets comfortable against the pillow and closes her eyes, satisfied at how far they’ve come. 

 

**[end]**


End file.
